


Singing of the Heart

by Astral_Romances



Series: HetaDrabbles [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Fluff, Genderswap, Implied Sexual Content, Nyotalia, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23985772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astral_Romances/pseuds/Astral_Romances
Summary: England spends the night in France and decides to stay in the morning.Self-indulgent, fluffy nyo!Fruk.
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia), Female England/Female France (Hetalia)
Series: HetaDrabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729150
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Singing of the Heart

The smell and sounds of Paris in the early morning were unfamiliar to Allison and yet all too familiar at the same time. Paris had its’ own distinct smell, a vein scent of roses. It was very much different from the way London smelled like old books, or how Berlin smelled like bread. These smells couldn’t be picked up by humans, only her kind was able to smell them. Out of all the places Allison had been, she supposed London was the place where her heart sings. The way the towers rise up along the shores of the Thames, the way the guards stand tall and proud to protect the queen and the smell of books. She loved London with all her heart, but Allison loved Paris nearly as much.

Outside a dove made some sounds and the first humans down on the streets left their homes to get to work. Horse feet and the wheels of carts echoed between the buildings on the stones of the streets. The sun hadn’t yet risen, but the sky started to get lighter already, Allison could see so through the small split between the curtains. It was a humid morning, the satin sheets were warm and soft against her bare body, but Allison thought that the air wouldn’t be too cold of she quietly shook them, got dressed and left the house without waking up the other woman. But what was the fun in that? Why should she just get up and leave when she could stay long enough to see Françoise’s pretty violet eyes flutter open? Knowing the French woman, Allison would probably get to experience some nice early morning love-making if she stayed. Besides, leaving without a word after a night of passion was a huge dick move and Allison was better than that.

‘I guess I should just stay in bed.’ Allison said to herself. She could prepare some breakfast in the kitchen, but she knew Françoise wouldn’t really appreciate the gesture since Allison was a terrible cook.

She was well aware that what she was doing here was dangerous, sinful and illegal, but she couldn’t really care any less. Men were way worse at pleasing her compared to the French woman snoring softly beside her. They always seemed to think that sticking their dick between her legs was enough to satisfy a woman, but they were so wrong. Allison didn’t even like men, but when you’re out on the seas for months at a time, some relief was welcome. She always ended up regretting it afterwards; she could have done a way better job all by herself.

The last time she’d actually had sex with a man must have been at least 200 years ago now and she didn’t miss it at all. Once Allison had learned that it was indeed possible to lay with a woman, she had never even bat an eye at men anymore. She had been beheaded for it once, but all Allison had learned from that was that she had to be more discreet. From then on her attraction to the same sex had been displayed through long, heartfelt letter and secret meet-ups in places no human would dare to go.

She wasn’t the type of woman to obey all of the rules. If she were human, Allison was sure that she would have died by beheading or burnings a long time ago. She had sent more people to their deaths than she could count. Part of her felt bad about it, but _someone_ had to do it and she just happened to be the scapegoat. Compared to all the sins she’d committed in her life, sleeping with women was one of her smallest concerns.

She liked that about Françoise; she couldn’t care less either. She just did whatever she wanted and whenever she wanted it. She wasn’t afraid to confess her love to Allison, just how Allison wasn’t afraid to love her right back. They didn’t mind to be seen together frequently; there were enough little lies they could come up with to mask the truth of their relationship. Françoise was a devoted Christian, but she was smart and brave enough to write rules of her own. Allison didn’t believe that there was a god. She was expected to pray and believe, but she didn’t and was vocal about it.

Allison was a sinner of the worst grade when it came to that; blasphemy was considered one of the worst crimes that you could ever commit as a person. On top of that all, Allison practiced witchcraft, fell in love with women, hoarded on black cats and had the ability to speak with mythical creatures. She was what the people deemed as a witch and Allison knew that these accusations were true, but she couldn’t care less at the moment. She was laid between the most luxurious sheets next to the most beautiful creature on earth.

Next to her, Françoise finally opened her eyes. ‘Ah, bonjour my sweet Alice,’ The brunette said. ‘I hope you slept well. I most certainly did.’ The woman sat upright in bed and stretched her limbs. Allison didn’t even try to mask the fact that she was very much ogling the Frenchwoman’s body.

‘Good morning to you, too. I must say that I slept rather well. Your bedding is of very high quality and it doesn’t sting like mine.’

‘French quality fabrics are better and prettier than British ones, after all.’ The French woman replied. She absentmindedly dragged her index down Allison’s spine.

‘Oi, you better take that back or I’m invading France.’ Allison bit back aggressively, but she relaxed into the touch anyway.

‘Oh? Are you? I’d like to see you try, chèrie.’ Françoise continued roaming her hands over Allison’s back, stopping at her waist. ‘Ah, I’m so jealous of your slender body, you know? Your waist is so tiny; you don’t even need to tight-lace your corset every morning!’ She sulked.

‘Oh, shut it. At least you don’t have to sew padding into every single one of your dresses to make it look like you’ve got breasts. If anything, I should be jealous of your body. I just look like I’m 12 with my flat chest and non-existing hips.’

‘I think they’re charming, Alice. Small breasts don’t make you any less of a woman. Your body is very elegant and so smooth. Your limbs are so lean,’ Françoise whispered. She kissed the back of Allison’s neck. ‘It’s incredibly sexy.’

Allison felt her cheeks burn. ‘W-well, wanna trade then? Because I think you’re the sexy one here.’

‘Oh la la~ well, as long as you keep the eyebrows, I don’t see why not.’ Françoise chuckled. She moved her hands over Allison’s chest as she spoke. She earned what she was getting at when the British let out a soft gasp.

‘You bloody twat. I can’t help them.’ Allison said, she elbowed her lover in the face on purpose.

‘Ouch! They’re ugly, it’s the truth!’ The brunette said sternly. She didn’t stop roaming her hands over her lover’s body.

‘Fuck you, France.’

‘Sure, why don’t you?’

‘Hmm, you’re right. Why shouldn’t I?’ the blonde said with a smirk playing at her lips. She sat upright and straddled the other woman with her legs and pinned her hands above her head. Françoise allowed her.

‘I only have one request before you ravish the poor, innocent me.’ The brunette said; a faked pout displayed on her pretty face.

‘And what might that be, Miss Bonnefoy?’ Allison replied in a silent whisper.

‘Oh, nothing special. I would just like a kiss.’

‘That can be arranged.’

‘And I would like you to stay for diner.’

‘That can _also_ be arranged. On one condition.’ Allison said. It was now or never.

‘What might that condition be?’

‘Marry me. Not now, but one day in the future, when it’s possible.’ There. She said it.

‘Oh, Alice… I did not see that coming at all. But yes, I will. Even if it takes 300 years to get there.’ Françoise said. She smiled brightly. ‘I would cry, but I decided to save the tears for our wedding day.’

‘Good, frog. Now, where were we?’

‘You were going to kiss me.’

‘Ah, I remember now.’ Allison said as she leaned in and closed the gap between their mouths.

Never mind London; Paris was really the place where Allison’s heart sang the most, but only as long as Françoise Bonnefoy lived there.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Please leave a comment if you can.


End file.
